


Impressions

by flight_feather



Series: Heartbeat (Mia Shepard) [1]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Developing Friendships, F/M, Friendship, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 00:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14841824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flight_feather/pseuds/flight_feather
Summary: You never get a second chance to make a first impression, but with the right person, you can work on it.Mia Shepard and Garrus Vakarian's thoughts on each other at their first meeting and through the first Mass Effect game.Submitted for MER Week prompt: Hello and Goodbye - tell us how a particular relationship started or how it ended.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This had been sitting in my drafts for awhile and seemed good for MER Week. Most of [my work focuses on smutty Reyder fic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flight_feather/works), but Shakarian was my first ever OTP.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mia Shepard's first thoughts of Garrus.

Mia Shepard wasn’t sure how she felt about this Garrus Vakarian at first. 

For one thing, he was a cop. She tried to judge people as individuals but still carried the emotional scars of a bad - really bad - police encounter when she was younger. Mia was always on her guard around them, always waiting for the next one to betray his badge.

The other thing was his attitude. Hot-headed. Cocky. Impatient. She’d never believed that the ends justified the means, always tried to operate by the spirit of the law if not the letter. This turian unnerved her slightly with his distinctly...un-turian behavior, his vocal opposition to the red tape holding him back. 

And then there was that headshot on the hostage-taker at the clinic. Even if she had had to admit that it was a beautiful shot, it was a risk she thought most of the turians she’d met wouldn’t have taken. Endangering hostages was against the rules. Maybe she was relying too much on stereotypes but turians, in her limited experience, liked rules. Structure. Order. He seemed too willing to do a questionable thing to achieve his objective, even if the objective was good.

Then again, Saren wasn’t following the rules. So when Vakarian asked if he could join her, she figured it couldn’t hurt to have a turian like him on her side - as long as he followed _her_ orders and wasn’t delusionally homicidal. His heart seemed to be in the right place, at least. 

She liked that he acknowledged the mission was her show even as he insisted he was coming with her. Shepard hadn’t had much experience with turians, but the flanging in his speech seemed a bit more than was normal - especially when he spoke of bringing the traitor in - and she took it for passion. She brought him along.

Against Kaiden’s opposition, she took Vakarian and the krogan, Wrex, along with her on a test run to find missing marines on Edolus. She knew krogans and turians were a potentially volatile mixture, but aside from a few sharp comments from Wrex in the Mako there was nothing notable. Vakarian didn’t rise to the bait, so it seemed his issue wasn’t one of irrational temper but rather long-simmering frustration with a system he felt prevented his doing good. She could respect that; the drive to do good was something they had in common. 

His weapons skill impressed her. She could more than handle a pistol or a sniper rifle and wouldn’t have made it as an N7 Infiltrator if she was anything less than good, but he took skill to the level of art. 

As time went on, Vakarian grew on her. He earned more of her trust with each mission, and she found herself selecting him by default, choosing the third squad member depending on the needs of the mission but always including Vakarian. 

They complemented each other well. He listened when she explained why they followed the rules, Spectre status or not, and tried to see things her way. There was a sharp and willing mind controlling the temper, one that could keep up with her often mercurial shifts in conversational topics. As she got to know him better, his dry wit became a constant source of amusement and she found herself visiting him more often on her rounds of the ship than was strictly necessary. Before long, Vakarian became Garrus in her mind. 

***

The mission with Toombs shattered her. How could she have left someone behind? What must her crew think of her, to see the dysfunctional wreck of an abandoned teammate? Try as she might, Shepard couldn’t bring herself to do her rounds until guilt forced her out of her chair. She’d start with Garrus. Maybe he’d let her help with the Mako. Working with her hands was always a good distraction. 

They passed the first half hour in silence, and the second in banter. She liked that about him. He didn’t need to fill the air with the sound of his own thoughts, didn’t demand to hear hers, just worked with her in companionable silence until she was ready to chat. 

Over the next hour, she found herself opening up to him more. He wasn’t in her chain of command, not really, and unlikely as it seemed from their cool and cordial beginnings, he was the crew member she felt closest to. She could relax around him, be more herself and less of the first human Spectre feeling her way through her first solo command. 

By the time they took out Dr Saleon, Shepard was beginning to see herself as his mentor as well as his friend, especially when he took in her statement that a person can only control their responses, set aside his obvious anger, and said he’d never met anyone like her. She liked the way that felt. That she was a top soldier in her own right was proven by her rank and survival on Akuze. But to have someone like Garrus acknowledge her thinking, her philosophy of life as valid and worth considering - that was gratifying. After the constant dismissals by the Council, it was nice to have someone take her views seriously.

He didn’t always accept what she said without question, but then again, she found that she didn’t really want him to. It was...refreshing, to have to think about why she acted the way she did. To check her instincts with logic and pass on her thought processes to her unlikely protege. He was always respectful, always correct, and she came to realize that while Garrus might let his temper show, it was never lost. Even when he thought Dr Saleon would escape what he considered justice, he held his fire, if not his tongue. That was alright with Shepard. Better a teammate who spoke their mind than one who held quiet resentments.

It was also easier to talk to him than it was to the rest of the crew. She didn’t like either Kaiden or Ashley. Kaiden put her on edge with his borderline-inappropriate comments and inflated view of his own importance on the crew. Ashley’s xenophobic comments - however innocently or ignorantly made, and her concern for Liara notwithstanding - made her uncomfortable. Liara was sweet and certainly attractive, but frighteningly intense in her interest in Shepard. Tali reminded her of her little sister, lost on Mindoir, who she felt she had to protect. Wrex she viewed as an uncle, but one she had to impress. Joker’s sarcasm was exhausting sometimes, even though she saw it for the defensive mechanism that it was.

Garrus...she wasn’t sure where he fit, but once she understood how insecure he was under his temper and bluster she found him easier to deal with. She came to rely on his tactical input and his solid presence at her back. Their talks under the Mako, working together to repair whatever damage she’d caused on the last mission, had a way of soothing her and she came to enjoy just spending time with him. 

Then came Virmire.

Shepard brought him along, she had to. His tech and weapons skills made him ideally suited against the geth, and by then they were nearly inseparable. Besides, the funny noises he made when she drove the Mako off a cliff or over a rough patch of ground always made her laugh.

Noises aside, that voice...that voice did something else to her. When he called her out for scaring Saren’s asari researcher, she felt a little guilty because she did enjoy it. She felt guiltier for enjoying the deep richness of his words even more, for rolling in the shivery thrill it gave her when he spoke into her ear, close at her back. 

She almost considered taking someone else for the final assault on Saren’s base but pushed it aside. He was the best choice. Shepard could ignore shivers. She was a professional.

She was glad Garrus was there when she had to choose whether Ashley or Kaiden would live or die. She had seen his leadership potential from the first mission they went on together, knew that one day a choice like this would be his. More than that, she admitted to herself, she didn’t want to make this choice alone. She may not have liked either of the other soldiers on a personal level, but they were under her command, her responsibility. Hers to protect. It shouldn’t have come to this. If she had been faster, smarter, better, it wouldn’t have come to this. 

Just like on Mindoir. If she had been faster, smarter, better, she could have saved her family.

But that kind of thinking wasn’t what was called for. She looked up into Garrus’ steady blue gaze as she decided who would stay behind. Ashley, holding the line with the salarians? Or Kaiden, defending the bomb that would end this facility and its perversion of the krogans? He said nothing, only looked steadily back at her, no judgment in his eyes. Trusting that she would make the right choice, even though he must know that one day the decision might be between himself and another. 

She ordered them back to Kaiden, trying to convey to Garrus with a look that held a thousand words how much of a toll this decision would take. He met her eyes solidly for a moment, then nodded, not saying a word. He’d have made the same choice. She felt sick leaving someone to die, but that’s the hand she was dealt.

It almost felt like it was for nothing when the Council said Saren was just playing with her. They didn’t believe her. After all that, they didn’t believe her. 

Garrus was the first person she sought out after making her report, unable to deal with Liara’s innocence or Kaiden’s neediness. Garrus didn’t disappoint. Just told her how much he’d learned, made her feel like she made the right choices. She sighed in relief, slumping slightly before catching herself and standing straight again. When he tipped his head toward the Mako, she nodded. Fixing the Mako with him always settled her. Together they scooted under the tank, focusing on the front right tire. It was always the front right tire that blew first no matter what they did to shore it up. 

After pinching her fingers for the third time, she sighed and set the spanner down. Working on the Mako usually settled her but the loss of a crew member - however necessary to the mission - and the Council’s disbelief had her thrown. She sighed, excused herself, and went up to her quarters to cry it out. Tears turned to rage and she screamed her frustration as she threw a boot against the far wall. That was satisfying. She threw a datapad next, and then a rifle mod she’d been planning to sell the next time they were on the Citadel.

A knock at the door stopped her from throwing the other boot. She growled, then pulled herself together, wiped her eyes, and barked, “Come!” 

Garrus stepped in, hesitantly, holding a bottle and two glasses. He glanced at the datapad on the floor and the boot in her hand but wisely said nothing. She said nothing too, wondering what the turian was doing here with a bottle but still too frustrated to ask. She raised her eyebrows and dropped the boot. 

His mandibles fluttered and he shifted his feet. “Ethanol-based alcohol is non-chiral. And no one should have to reminisce alone,” he offered. Shepard grinned lopsidedly, as much for the thoughtfulness as for his obvious nervousness. Then he added cheekily, “Besides, if you break everything in the room we won’t have anything left to sell for funds,” and she threw her head back and laughed. It had been a long time since anyone had had the courage to sass her, but it seemed the odd friendship they’d developed was genuine and she felt a weight lift. He was right. It was hard to be alone, especially at the top of the immediate chain of command. As a C-Sec officer on loan to her team he wasn’t technically in it, so she stepped back to the room’s small table, gesturing for him to take a seat. “Come on in then, Garrus, before I destroy our war chest.” 

He sat down and sloshed a heavy pour into each glass, saying, “A toast to Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams. ” She smiled sadly. Ash hadn’t been hugely keen on turians and hadn't been quiet about it, but had earned enough respect enough as a soldier that a turian was here toasting her death. She raised her glass and downed it, snorting when Garrus grunted in surprise but wisely didn’t comment.

Shepard found herself opening up to him, sharing her grief bit by bit as they finished a second glass more slowly. He left not long after, having seen her through her pent-up frustration with a listening ear. She realized that she was thinking about Ashley’s comment, the one about kissing aliens, and wondered what it would be like to kiss an alien with no lips. 

Wait...where had that come from?

She turned Liara down later. The naive asari seemed to want more than Shepard was willing to give her...and the shade of blue she saw in her mind’s eye wasn’t Liara’s gently textured skin. It was the brilliant cobalt in the sweep of Garrus’ colony markings, the piercingly bright sapphire of his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the indulgence in narrative. The other fics have more action and dialogue.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus' first impression of Mia Shepard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other half of the story.

Garrus wasn’t sure how he felt about this Commander Shepard at first. 

He recognized her immediately, of course - not many human soldiers were the sole survivor of a thresher maw attack that had stayed in the news cycle for a full Citadel month. While the Alliance kept the details of the massacre quiet they didn’t hide the event, either. No, it was the way she eyed him that set him on edge. Evaluating, cautious, cold, where most humans dealing with C-Sec officers or turians or both were either overly gregarious or unnecessarily aggressive. She covered it well enough, greeting him cordially before heading off to her Council meeting, but he noticed it and assumed it was a general mistrust of turians stemming from the Relay 314 incident. Maybe she’d had family in the conflict. He brushed off the memory of her gaze after she left. There was work to be done, and icy violet eyes weren’t in it.

When they met again at the clinic it was like the universe was offering him a second chance at Saren. Her admiration for his shooting made him bold, however grudgingly it was offered. He set aside his discomfort at her aloofness and asked to go with her on the mission to hunt down the traitor. He’d had cold superiors before, and the opportunity to both complete his case and gain valuable experience aboard a unique human-turian warship was too much to pass up. He was still surprised when she accepted him but felt a thrill of excitement nonetheless. 

Garrus was there when Shepard became a Spectre. He heard the strain in Sparatus’ subvocals when the turian councilor argued against going after Saren. The same strain was there when Sparatus argued against Shepard becoming a Spectre. The man wanted a way out, wanted Shepard to be their way out, but knew it wouldn’t fly on Palaven if he hadn’t offered at least a token resistance. He watched the brief conferral ceremony with eager eyes, his childhood dreams taking on a new dimension as he witnessed the speech. Then they were off to hunt the traitor.

He was intrigued by Shepard’s first speech aboard the Normandy. Not only did it stick to positives; it also exhorted the human crew to see the mission beyond humanity’s interests and as a service for the galaxy as a whole. It was stirring, almost an oration rather than a simple speech. It was also very...turian...of her. He hadn’t expected that and wondered if he’d been luckier than he knew to join this mission. If the speech was typical of her, she might be not just an excellent soldier, but a true leader. Someone worth following and learning from, if she didn’t try to hold him back.

Garrus knew the first mission to Edolus was a test - had to be, for her to bring the krogan warlord along as well. So he held his tongue and gained not only a modicum of respect from the krogan, but also the first smile he’d seen from the Commander. She gave him a nod as they disembarked on the Normandy. He nodded back and got to work making repairs on the Mako. He sensed that respect and usefulness would be the way to earn her favor and a chance to be on the team that took the killshot on Saren. That he wanted, more than anything.

She took him on more missions after Edolus, and then on every mission, as it became clear that his excellent sniping and moderate tech abilities complimented her excellent tech and good-but-not-as-good weapons abilities. With the addition of that asari archeologist and her biotic skills, they were unstoppable. He heard some grumbling from Chief Williams over the Commander’s preference for aliens and was almost surprised when Shepard called her out on it directly in one of their conversations. 

That meant it wasn’t his being a turian that was the cause of Commander Shepard’s initial coldness towards him, and likely not the Relay 314 incident...was it his being a C-Sec officer? Whatever it was, he didn’t think it was personal; she warmed up to him more and more on each of her rounds of the ship. Soon she was sitting with him and chatting about tactics and strategy while he righted the latest wrong committed on the poor Mako, cleaned his weapons, or polished his armor. It became her habit to seek him out when she was unsettled, reviewing this strategy or that one, discussing the finer points of sniper rifle modification, or simply sitting quietly.

After that business with Toombs, he decided to test the waters and nodded towards the Mako when she made her way to him on her rounds. She always seemed to relax a bit when she sat with him as he worked on it. Maybe working with him would distract her. 

At first, they worked in silence; Garrus sensed that she needed to distance herself from what had happened. Wrex was off somewhere else for once, and for awhile the only sounds were from their tools. At one point he dropped a spanner on his face and was pleasantly surprised when she made a light joke about the hardness of turian heads. He threw one right back, feeling his heart skip when she laughed. He’d never heard that light sound from her before and he had been the cause of it.

Something seemed to shift between them. The Commander started talking about silly mistakes from her training days, pranks played, bullies outsmarted. He told some of his own stories, finding himself thrilled at this sharing between them and enjoying this other side of her. Beyond being an excellent commanding officer, she was actually fun to be around. 

Eventually, he found himself telling her about Dr Saleon. Not long after that, they were staring down at the salarian’s body. 

He’d felt a moment of blind rage - he’d wanted to be the one to end the doctor and had thought she understood that. But the Commander had looked him in the eye, caught his attention and really looked, and said, “You can’t control people’s actions, but you can control how you’ll respond.” Suddenly, everything his father had been trying to tell him about his temper and his pride started to come clear. Why it made more sense coming from a human he was only starting to know and not his own father, he didn’t understand. But something clicked. He saw where his pride and passion impacted his judgment, and resolved to do better.

When she shot Dr Saleon he realized that while she was a paragon of goodness, it was a path that didn’t come easy to her. It was one that was paved with both experiences deeper than her years would suggest, and careful choices made on their own merits. Her way took longer, but did more to help people and did so intentionally, rather than incidentally. 

Later, after the mission, she insisted that he call her Shepard. It felt strange to him - no turian officer would ever allow it - but then again, he wasn’t formally under her command. Nor was she a turian. So he flicked his mandibles in a grin and called her Shepard, wondering why his visor registered a slight spike in her heart rate when he did. Outwardly, her expression and posture remained the same, so he chalked it up to a stray thought. They leant on the Mako and chatted about sniper rifle mods until the tenth annoyed sigh from Chief Williams made her wince and continue her rounds.

He started cleaning his rifle, thinking idly on Shepard’s methods again, and began to see where playing by the rules could pay off. Like on Noveria. Shepard would have been more than capable of shooting her way into wherever she wanted to go, and her Spectre authority would have seen her through it without investigation or red tape, but she used persuasion and benign favors to obtain access - and took down a corrupt administrator in the process. He saw where her way did more to help, to do good, in the bigger picture. The last barriers stopping him from giving her his absolute loyalty crumbled, even as he realized that Noveria was also where he began to see the cracks in Shepard where the darkness peeked out. Hints of a less forgiving nature, one that would kill without blinking, despite her diplomatic overtures and strong moral sense. 

Garrus respected that. He saw where she tried to choose the good path, watched her extend trust to Liara despite the involvement of her mother with Saren. She didn’t kill the guards harassing them when they disembarked on Noveria, although from his limited experience with human facial expressions, he’d swear it had briefly crossed her mind. She did kill the dirty cops in the Synthetic Insights office with a grim look on her face, as if she was looking back over the years. He wondered what she saw there, in that distant place behind her strange amethyst-colored eyes. In the back of his mind, he wondered if maybe it really was his being a C-Sec officer that had been the cause for her initial coldness.

Virmire was when he started to suspect that his respect for her was developing into something deeper. He found himself mildly terrified when she was taken by the beacon, having overheard a conversation between the humans on the crew about the beacon on Eden Prime. His sense of dread only deepened when the red holo of the Reaper sprang to life, a dread deeper than could be accounted for in a simple subordinate-superior relationship. His comment to Sovereign was an attempt to draw its attention away from her, not just to protect a good superior officer, but to protect...her.

When the windows blew out he crouched, reached for his weapon. Shepard stood tall, defiant, and he straightened himself. He needed that reassurance and found himself slipping back into the habit of calling her Commander. Whatever she felt inside, she was in control of the situation on the outside. Unbent, unafraid, unstoppable. Someone he could follow anywhere, and, on further reflection, would follow anywhere. Even to his death.

When Vigil revealed what it had done to preserve the information it held - shutting down life support for each Prothean, one by one, to ensure intelligence about the Reapers reached the next cycle - he was surprised at her brutal pragmatism in the face of Liara’s protests. Even having observed her on Noveria, he sometimes forgot that her inclination towards paragon behavior did not mean she was naive, nor would she hesitate to make a difficult choice. 

That thought came back to him when he watched her make the call that would send Chief Williams to her death. Saw the decision settle on her like a leaden cloak, heavy and poisonous. Countless thoughts spun through her eyes, regret for a person he knew she didn’t even particularly like. It shook him to realize that none of them were expendable to her; none of them were simply tools at her command. Under the cold professionalism she presented to most people, she cared deeply for every single one of her crew. 

At that moment, he was decided. Whatever happened after they stopped Saren and Sovereign, he would find a way to continue serving with her. Even if it meant going against his father’s wishes and becoming a Spectre himself. 

Garrus watched Shepard as the bomb went off and Williams died. Watched the pain blossom in her eyes, saw the mask of the Commander slip for a few moments, the guilt and sadness flashing across her face only to vanish as she pulled her walls up again. He’d gotten better at reading human facial expressions on this campaign and marveled at how much pain hers had held in those few seconds. He prayed to the Spirits that he never felt the like; he didn’t know if he’d survive it.

Alenko’s whining back on the ship made Garrus want to hit the man. The biotic’s focus on himself wasn’t what was needed. Couldn’t he see the Commander was hurting?

His own thoughts startled him. Why was he so invested in Shepard’s emotional state? She was still technically a superior.

He continued to ponder it later, when she came down after making her report to the Council. She looked...worn, somehow. In need of a friend. Were they friends? Suddenly he wasn’t sure - maybe he was reading too much into their chats. He knew he looked to her as a mentor, to be sure, so he told her how much he’d learned. He was shocked when she slumped briefly and hoped she hadn’t caught the quick mandible dip that betrayed his dismay. First, she let down her walls on Virmire, now this. Maybe they _were_ friends and not just friendly shipmates. She could certainly use a real friend. 

With a nod, he invited her to work on the Mako with him. She said nothing, simply dropped to the floor and slid under the lower point, where his greater size and the ridge of his chest wouldn’t quite let him squeeze in. He slipped in next to her. He could tell her mind wasn’t on the task this time though, because she kept fumbling the tools and hissing when she caught one of her too-many fingers in a pinch. She soon set the spanner down, sighed, and said something about needing to file another report.

He finished the rest of the work in short order, there having been no cliffs to throw the poor tank off of on Virmire, and headed up to the mess - where a dull thud and muffled scream from the Captain’s quarters the next floor up made him jump. Alenko, sitting at the table, jumped too, but made no move to see what the commotion was. 

Garrus pondered a moment, then popped into the medbay to steal the bottle of Serrice ice brandy Dr Chakwas kept in her desk drawer. On his way back through the mess, he grabbed two glasses, ignoring Alenko’s questioning looks. Garrus may never have had to order someone’s death, but he’d heard stories from older soldiers during his mandatory military service and suspected that this would eat at her if she didn’t get it out now.

He knocked at the door, wondering if he shouldn’t have at the aggressive-sounding “Come!” shouted in response. Why did this seem more intimidating than a firefight?

On entering, his first question was whether the boot she was holding was going to end up in his face if he said something about the damaged datapad next to the door and decided it would be wiser to say nothing. Shepard said nothing either, staring at him with lowered brows that he thought indicated anger. Probably not at him. He thought. Her oddly mobile eyebrows went up in an expression he hadn’t learned to read yet, but she dropped the boot, so he figured it was safe to speak. 

Garrus felt a wash of uncertainty. Was he doing the right thing, approaching her like this? Even if he was the closest thing she had to a friend on this ship? He held up the bottle of brandy. “Ethanol-based alcohol is non-chiral. And no one should have to reminisce alone,” he said. 

Shepard grinned, so he added, “Besides, if you break everything in the room we won’t have anything to sell for funds.” It was a relief when she laughed and welcomed him in. Setting the glasses on the table, he sat, poured a generous splash into each, and toasted Chief Williams. He hadn’t particularly liked her, but he respected her as a soldier and it was the right thing to do. Shepard echoed him, “To Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams,” and downed her glass with neither hesitation nor a cough at the bite of alcohol. 

She took the next glass more slowly, remembering the fallen soldier with stories of her contributions. It was so...turian…of her. Garrus held his silence, hearing under the words her guilt and frustration. When she talked herself out he offered a few words that would have encouraged a turia and left, hoping that he had helped. 

Later, he lay on his bunk reviewing the evening. He wasn’t sure if there was a chance for them to be more than friends or even if he wanted to be; he’d never considered a relationship with someone not turian. But as he drifted off to sleep he found himself thinking of the dexterity of her long brown fingers as she passed him a part under the Mako, the sweet-salt whiff of scent he had once caught from her neck when he turned to see what she was working on and found her closer than expected. The memory stuck in his mind when he fell asleep was the way the light in her lilac-colored eyes danced warmly when she laughed at his comments, so different from the distant gaze she affected most of the time.


End file.
